Michelle Sagara - Cast In Honour

And her marks were glowing. Here, they emitted a glow that extended for yards, but they weren’t as bright as Teela’s light, and definitely not as directionally useful.

“Who reported this to the Halls?” Tain asked. He was generally content to let Teela do the talking, but Teela seemed preoccupied.

Gavin answered the question as if he’d expected it. “The daughter. A family of four lives here. One of the four is in the basement, along with two of his friends.”

“The rest of the family was unharmed?”

“The rest of the family was, apparently, asleep.”

“They heard nothing?”

“No.”

“When did they discover the bodies?”

“Early morning.”

“Are they here?”

“They’re at church, at the moment. The daughter is young, and I believe her mother wished to distract her. We’ve interviewed the mother and the father. Their son was one of the victims.”

“The mages have left?”

“An hour ago. Had you wished to speak with them, you might have arrived at the expected time.”

Imperial mages treated Teela with grudging respect—they’d never once demanded proof of her magical competence when she’d chosen to reveal any—but they treated Kaylin as if she were new to both the Hawks and the basic concepts of magic itself.

She was willing to admit—to herself, in private—that she didn’t know as much magical theory as she probably should by now. But if they’d bothered to check, they’d see that her reports were filed as part of official evidence and observation in dozens of investigations. She hated to have to justify her existence every single time she met a member of the Imperium.

Today, given the distraction of Gilbert and Kattea, she wouldn’t have to. She’d have to justify her tardiness to Marcus, but claws and growled threats of losing her throat didn’t irritate her nearly as much as Imperial mages did.

The small dragon squawked volubly. Kaylin slid her hand over her ear in a vain attempt to preserve some of her hearing. “I get it,” she told the annoyed—and annoying—familiar.

The hair on her neck had started to stand on end. Her arms, however, didn’t hurt—or rather, didn’t hurt more, given Teela’s light. “Teela.”

“You see something.”

“Not yet. But something’s off here.”

“How off?”

“Bellusdeo should probably go back upstairs.”

The gold Dragon had no intention of going back up the stairs, and the smoke she exhaled clearly indicated that she was offended at the suggestion. Gavin looked as if he was about to order her off the premises. She was, however, a Dragon—and even those who served at the Emperor’s pleasure understood the role of the Dragon Court. In theory, Gavin had the legal right to ask Bellusdeo to vacate—but theory was a very, very poor shield against Dragon rage.

Kaylin was only slightly surprised when Teela’s light hit the top of a second set of descending stairs. These were stone, but as the light illuminated them more fully, they appeared to be carved entirely out of a single piece of rock. “These stairs were here when you came to investigate?”

“Yes.”

“Did the person who reported finding the bodies mention anything unusual about the stairs themselves?”

“Yes. According to the interview conducted with the parents of the deceased, these stairs are new.”

“How new?”

“The basement is used for cold storage. The stairs were not—again, according to the parents—present three days ago.”

“Have you asked the daughter?”

“No.”

“Did anyone?”

“No. The daughter was not present for the interviews.”

“Where is she now?”

“As I said, at church.”

Kaylin cursed. “ Which church, Gavin?”

Gavin had no answer to offer.

“Why is it relevant?” Bellusdeo asked. “You are not particularly religious yourself.”

“On occasion, new religions present themselves to people. Some of them start on Elani.”

“You suspect fraud.”

“Fraud is one thing,” Kaylin replied. Her skin began to feel raw whenever she walked or moved her arms. “I don’t care what people do to comfort themselves. I don’t care if people who claim to speak with the dead offer—and make money from—comfort to the bereaved. I don’t even care if people pay through the nose for that comfort. Yes, I used to despise it. I like to think I’ve gotten a bit smarter.”

“Liar.”

“It’s not the fakes I’m concerned about. Not all religions worship distant gods. Some have magic as their focal point.”

“Lianne,” Gavin said.

“On it,” the private replied, heading instantly back up the stairs.

* * *

The stairs looked the same with the familiar’s intervention and without: cold, hard and distinctly uninviting. Teela headed down the stairs first; Tain was two steps behind her. Kaylin followed; she wanted Severn to keep Bellusdeo out of what appeared to be a new subbasement. Naturally, he wouldn’t do it.

Kaylin couldn’t. Bellusdeo was older and more powerful than Kaylin, and vastly more knowledgeable. Kaylin was not a capable judge of the Dragon’s actual abilities—she was just the person who was going down, and hard, if anything happened to Bellusdeo. She tried not to resent the worry, and failed—but managed to keep it to herself.

The small dragon warbled very quietly.

“Teela?”

“Hug the wall. This is not a small staircase. It widens at the bottom.”

* * *

There were walls on either side of the stairs, of the same rough stone construction as the steps themselves. There were no torch-rings or lamp-hooks on the descent; there was nothing on the walls at all. Kaylin stopped when Teela did, the halt staggering back up the stairs.

“The walls, kitling?”

“Nothing up here.”

“Come to where I am.”

Kaylin headed around Tain and came to stand beside Teela. She didn’t lift the familiar’s wing; she didn’t need to. There was magic here, a sigil splashed and stretched across the left wall. Kaylin frowned.

“You can see it.”

“Yes, but...”

“But?”

“It’s the wrong color. Most of the sigils I’ve seen are shades of blue or gray.”

“This one?”

“It’s purple. Purple and black.”

“Is it active?”

“No—it’s definitely the remnants of a previously cast spell. Or spells.” She frowned again. “I’d say this is the work of more than one person; there are at least two marks here.”

“Do you recognize either of them?”

The problem with magical detection—or at least the chief problem, as far as Kaylin was concerned—was the lack of permanent visual Records. Perception was never consistent, and while a mage could reliably state where he’d seen the trace or sigil of the caster before—if he had come across it in any other investigation—the mage’s description would offer no useful information to any other mage. Only if the investigators were forced to use memory crystals could the images be retained. Memory crystals, however, were very difficult to make and exceedingly expensive. They made portable mirrors seem cheap and readily available in comparison.

Therefore, what Kaylin saw could not be recorded in any reliable way. What she’d seen over the almost eight years she’d spent with the Hawks could not be recalled and compared to the sigils before her now. Although this was also true for Teela, Teela was Barrani: she remembered everything with absolute clarity.

“I’m surprised the mages didn’t stay,” Teela said—in the wrong tone of voice. “Gavin, you have a mirror?”

“Not with me, no.”

“Here.” She retrieved her own mirror and tossed it—accurately—up the stairs; Gavin caught it in his fingertips. “Mirror Marcus the names of the attending mages. Mirror the Imperial Order. Bellusdeo, it’s time for you to leave.”